


What Hurts Most

by kittentaegu



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Heavy Angst, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittentaegu/pseuds/kittentaegu
Summary: This is written non-specific, but ao3 requires a fandom, so I'm listing the two fandoms I'm in the most. Thinking of the best friends of either group is maximum pain, imo.





	What Hurts Most

**Author's Note:**

> This is written non-specific, but ao3 requires a fandom, so I'm listing the two fandoms I'm in the most. Thinking of the best friends of either group is maximum pain, imo.

Sweat sprayed and blood flung, the room spinning in a whirl around him. But it wasn’t his blood or sweat flying at the moment. No, it was that of his best friend. The one he thought he could trust above all else. The very person he never expected or even entertained the thought of ever betraying him had done just that. He landed blow after blow as tears streamed hotly down his face, dripping on the floor and speckling his clothes.

His friend had long stopped begging for him to stop, had not uttered an attempt of apology or explanation in several minutes. Now, he just stared up with swollen right eye as blood trickled down his face, resigning to and accepting the punishment his choices and behavior had brought to him. It was in his eyes, how very much he knew he’d earned this beating and deserved it. He just stayed on his knees and let himself be hit over and over to his friends release of everything pint up. Everything, including each realization in his eyes as he realized every misstep, every lie, every betrayal that led to this moment. He saw the hurt and fear at what they both found out that they each were capable of, what they themselves were capable of.

A pause, a falter in his fist, then, one last blow. He fell to his own knees, numbness slowly taking over, but the red hot rage was still flowing through him. Ragged breath pulled in and out of his mouth as he stared at his battered hands. He didn’t look at his friend, he couldn’t. For many reasons, he could not bring himself to even spare his friend even a glance.

He knew the second his friends fists stopped pummeling his face; he knew this was it. This is in part why he didn’t try to stop him anymore. Because he knew. The second he stopped, he would truly and fully be done with him. It would mean a literal and painful end that had nothing to do with anything physical. It was that moment after the last punch was thrown that a single tear finally slipped over his lid and made it’s salty and stinging path down his bloodied and beaten face. This was it. The end.

He wanted to forget. Wanted to act like nothing happened and he’d never found out. Maybe then, ignorance is bliss. If he had been the fool longer, he could be playing video games with his best friend right now. Instead, he had beaten him mercilessly, and when he would get up, he knew he’d not see his friend ever again. He would only see the boy that tore his life apart because he had no restraint to stop himself from constantly damaging and risking their friendship and lives.

He wanted to reach out, wanted to hold his friend. Tell him it would be alright and that the pain in his eyes would fade and they would laugh about ‘that one time’. But he didn’t move, didn’t dare. Because he was the source of his best friends agony through and through. He hadn’t behaved as a best friend for a while now. And he deserved to have the first good thing in his life ripped from him. He had done it to himself. Breath caught and held in his lungs as he watched the tears falling slower and slower. This was it.

One tiny sob escaped him, that was all. The tears neared their end, and as he took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling; he collected what was left of himself off the floor and hoisted himself up to his feet. A pause of his footsteps, not sparing a look as he stared aimlessly into nothing in the distance. The weight of the moment almost breaking him all over again.

“Don’t call me.” The last words spoken between them quiet but clear in a hollow and emotionless voice. And then he left his ex best friend, still knelt battered and resigned, to himself. He was no longer his problem to worry or help. He was on his own. They both were.


End file.
